


One Night to Speed up Truth

by thegrumblingirl



Series: Protocols [4]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, M/M, mostly domestic fluff, with some exploration and evo-devo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning shift came too early, dragging along the twin wonders of consciousness and sunshine pouring in through the windows. John would have groaned in annoyance and dragged a hand down his face in defeat if something hadn’t thoroughly diverted his attention from the dawn of reality as soon as he was mostly conscious. Looking down at a still-sleeping Dorian, he took a moment to replay the previous night’s events in his head. For months, John would have called what they were doing ‘living with each other,’ when, really, they’d been living together, hadn’t they, all that time. And yet, none of this felt out of place, or like they were doing it the wrong way around. This was just how it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night to Speed up Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! I'm on vacation now, so there's lots of time to write -- and I really wanted to continue these two Almost Human series, exploring different pathways in parallel.
> 
> (Title nicked from The Knife's _Heartbeats_.)

The morning shift came too early, dragging along the twin wonders of consciousness and sunshine pouring in through the windows. John would have groaned in annoyance and dragged a hand down his face in defeat if something hadn’t thoroughly diverted his attention from the dawn of reality as soon as he was mostly conscious. Looking down at a still-sleeping Dorian, he took a moment to replay the previous night’s events in his head. For months, John would have called what they were doing ‘living with each other,’ when, really, they’d been living _together_ , hadn’t they, all that time. And yet, none of this felt out of place, or like they were doing it the wrong way around. This was just how it happened.

John smiled to himself at the thought. A debilitating fondness for his partner washed through him, along with a quiet hum of warmth at the memory of Dorian kissing him. The alarm next to his bed chose that moment to intrude and John sighed before stretching to turn it off. The head pillowed on his chest rose, neither abruptly nor quite smoothly, and Dorian looked at him with a slightly bleary expression before he blinked and his eyes cleared.

“Good morning, John,” Dorian smiled, already exuding the boundless energy he showed most early mornings. John tightened his arms around the man in a silent request to stay put for just a little longer.

“Morning,” he answered. “How’s memory-compression going?”

“I’m feeling well-rested, thank you,” Dorian quipped. “Although that might also be because you’re really comfortable,” he added with a broad grin, making Kennex huff.

“Glad I could help,” he replied in a gruff tone, but he knew Dorian could hear the amusement in his voice. Before he could say anything else, they were interrupted by his leg in its pod alerting him that it was fully calibrated for the day ahead, attuned to his usual routine. John sighed quietly. “We had better get going.”

Dorian nodded. Then, smiling, he stretched up towards John and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. “Then let’s go.”

 

 

Their days now continued much in the same way they had after Dorian had first moved in and whilst John had still managed to pretend it was just another thing partners did. They caught criminals, went to John’s favourite noodle stand, annoyed the shit out of Detective Paul. John maintained his preference for sprinkled donuts while Dorian observed — with entirely scientific interest — how a grown man could stuff nearly two of the sweet pastries into his mouth to the point of hardly being able to chew, then add coffee, and not make a complete mess of himself. In public. During a department meeting.

The look Maldonado threw him from the head of the conference table clearly meant, ‘How on earth do you put up with him?’ Dorian just shrugged minutely in response.

 

 

They didn’t always share John’s bed at night. Sometimes, when their sleeping patterns were cast askew by cases that had them up at all times of day and Dorian had to recharge at unusual times of the day, accessing the memory-compression protocols didn’t feel particularly appealing. Another “side effect” of the change in their relationship meant that Dorian felt equal parts more settled and unsettled. Discovering that John’s feelings for him were as strong as they seemed to be made Dorian singularly happy. Happiness was something he felt when he helped someone, when they worked a case, when a criminal was behind bars and the victims’ families received some form of closure. Happiness, for Dorian, was something he normally associated with his work, the job he was programmed to do, with serving the city and its people. But happiness with John was unlike any of that — it was between John and him, and though Dorian knew he had been programmed to care and empathise, he felt certain that relationships between humans and DRNs hadn’t been anticipated, and in all likelihood unwanted. And now, there was this… balloon of joy inside him, and it was just his. Many at the station knew that he had started living with John, and although it was regarded with some bewilderment, most were content to leave them alone about it — simply because most didn’t consider what he was doing was _living_ at all.

Dorian was learning what it felt like to have someone look at him the way John did first thing in the morning, was learning how being the centre of someone’s world could knock your own off its axis, only to have all that tumbling confusion be caught and held in place by John’s hand on his shoulder when they left the station through the parking lot at night. As he had told John that first night, decision-making based on emotional responses could get… loud. Too many colours, too many sounds. This wasn’t about being a cop, this wasn’t about public safety. This was just about Dorian, about how he breathed easier when John was behind him at crime scenes, beside him in the kitchen, when he heard John in the shower before work. What had been a vague possibility mere weeks before was now truth and real and so, so close.

So sometimes, even when he _was_ tired, he opted for the other bedroom rather than John’s. Whenever he did, John said goodnight and kissed his temple before heading to bed, and then John would be there the next morning, with coffee and asking how he’d slept. Something told Dorian that John needed those nights at least half as much as he did, and that it made their nights together more restful for both of them.

Weeks later, they stumbled through the door and out of the pouring rain. It was late at night teetering on early in the morning and they’d spent the night raiding a drughouse run by the Syndicate.

“C’mon,” John murmured and took Dorian’s hand, pulling him along to the bathroom. They got rid of their half-soaked clothing and towelled off their hair, standing next to each other in front of the sink and mirror, ready to grab their pyjamas. It took a few minutes before Dorian nearly dropped his towel when he realised they were both naked.

Knowing full well that John could probably see the way his eyes travelled over his skin, Dorian didn’t particularly try to hide the look. Granted, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen John without any clothes on, or vice versa. But it was the first time since they’d kissed and shared a bed, and Dorian was surprised by how it felt as though the air around them was humming with contentment rather than thrumming with tension. John did make eye contact, did smirk just a little, and Dorian’s sensors alerted him that his pupils had dilated. So the circumstances definitely weren’t lost on him, but the moment didn’t become charged, John’s hand was steady as he hung his towel on the rack to let it dry.

Dorian waited until they were under the covers, John’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, before he spoke.

“You do find me attractive,” he began — not a question, a statement. John, who had been drifting off a little, stretched and opened his eyes wide in an effort to stay awake.

Instead of replying, John ducked his head and kissed Dorian, gently and slowly. They’d only kissed a few times since that first night, but Dorian had already decided that he liked kissing John. It was warm and reassuring, and the way that John curled himself into Dorian when they did was so intimate… more intimate than he could imagine anything else being. When John pulled back, he was smiling. “I do. Now where’s this headed?”

“You said that we wouldn’t do anything but share unless I said so, but… ” Dorian trailed off, trying to find a way to make sense of the signals in his head. “I enjoy this. I enjoy being close to you, and I like that you’re handsy when you’re tired. I can feel the warmth of your body through your shirt and it feels like home. I also know that being this close to someone you’re attracted to affects you.”

John shifted, looking a little sheepish, but said nothing, sensing that Dorian had more to say. Dorian smiled. “The thing is, I want this. I want the closeness and the warmth, and kissing you was something I’d been wanting to do for a long time. I think you’re beautiful, John, I do. I know what else it is you might want, with me, and I know how… I thought about… but it doesn’t do anything for me. I don’t think anything does, not that way, so I’m… well, I’m pretty sure I’m asexual,” Dorian finished, still mildly confused, but firm.

John regarded him with a steady look, raising a hand to brush it over the back of Dorian’s neck. Dorian felt the tension ease from his shoulders at the touch and sighed quietly.

“Dorian, listen. When we first agreed to share a bed, I told you, we’re not doing anything unless you say so. Unless, not until. I wasn’t holding out for anything. I didn’t expect — well, you’re a DRN, I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t want to assume anything. Anything you want to do is fine, and anything you don’t is fine, too. I like sex, always have, and I’m not going to lie here with tented boxers and deny that I find you hot,” John added with a raised eyebrow. Dorian had to suppress a grin. “But not every relationship I’ve ever had was physical in the exact same way, and we all have different needs. Whichever way you’re wired, pun intended, what I want is to be with you. And you’re here, so it looks like I got my three wishes.”

Dorian couldn’t help but stare at his partner as a strange sort of liquid delight trickled through him. When he could mostly make sense of himself again, he nuzzled John’s chest with his nose. “Being almost human isn’t easy, is it.”

John huffed a laugh. “No, it’s not.”

As if by unspoken agreement, they settled in, John dimming the lights with a wave of his hand. The artificial light would then slowly fade until it was completely dark, sort of emulating dusk. In the half-light, he saw that John’s eyes were still open, watching him.

“Are you happy?” John murmured, barely more than a whisper.

“I am.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, I get nothing.


End file.
